Ichthyology (pronounced
ik-thee-ol-uh-jee)
(1) In zoology, the scientific study of fishes.
(2) The
study of the history, cultural & economic importance of fishes.
1640–1650: A compound word, the construction
being ichthyo- + -logy.
Ichthyo- and ichthy- were from the Ancient Greek ἰχθύς (ikhthús)
(fish), possibly from the primitive Indo-European dhghu and there may be a relationship with the Old
Armenian ձուկն (jukn) & the Lithuanian
žuvis and the suffix –logy was
derived from the Ancient Greek λογία (logos)
(to study). The English -logy suffix
originates with loanwords from the Greek, usually via Latin and French, where
the -λογία is an integral part of the word loaned whereas the French -logie is a continuation of the Latin -logia, ultimately from Ancient Greek
-λογία (-logía). Within English, the suffix has long been productive,
especially to form names of sciences or departments of study, analogous to names
of disciplines loaned from the Latin, such as astrology from astrologia or geology from geologia. Original compositions of terms
with no precedent in Greek or Latin become common by the early nineteenth
century, sometimes imitating French or German templates; insectology (1766)
after the French insectologie & terminology
(1801) after the German terminologie. By the twentieth century, English creations
with no Greek or Latin origin (undergroundology (1820), hatology (1837) were
frequent, sometimes in conjunction with –ism words. Ichthyology is a noun, related forms include
ichthyologic & ichthyological (adjectives), ichthyologically is an adverb; the
noun plural is ichthyologists.
The noun piscatology was an irregular (and
jocular) formation dating from 1857, the construct being the Latin piscatus, past participle of piscārī (to fish), present active
infinitive of piscor, from piscis, from the Proto-Italic piskis, from the primitive Indo-European
peysḱ-, the
cognates including the Old Irish íasc,
the Gothic fisks and the Old English fisċ + -olgy. The word piscatology
has been used to mean “the study of fish” (and thus a synonym of ichthyology)) but
not by scientists and the irregular form is now more correctly casually applied
to fishing and those who fish. In the
1990s, the idea behind the construction of piscatology begat piscetarian and pescetarian
(a person who consumes no animal flesh with the exception of fish or other seafood),
by analogy with “vegetarian”. The plural of fish is an illustration of the inconsistency of English. As the plural form, “fish” & “fishes” are often (and harmlessly) used interchangeably but in zoology, there is a distinction, fish (1) the noun singular & (2) the plural when referring to multiple individuals from a single species while fishes is the noun plural used to describe different species or species groups. The differentiation is thus similar to that between people and peoples yet different from the use adopted when speaking of sheep and, although opinion is divided on which is misleading (the depictions vary), those born under the zodiac sign Pisces are referred to variously as both fish & fishes.
Reeling one in: Lindsay Lohan and Hofit Golan (b 1985) fishing off Sardinia, July 2016. They would be considered piscatologists (those who catch fish) rather than ichthyologists (those who study fish) although there are humorless purists who insist there's no such word as piscatologist. The modern convention would be "fishers" or "fisherpersons".
In zoology, the modern conventions of taxonomy mean
fishes are precisely categorized but the English word “fish” for centuries was
used to describe a much wider range of species (although one discerning
observer in the fifteenth century did concoct fishes bestiales (water animals other than fishes), presumably on
the basis fishes proper should be limited to something like “a vertebrate which
has gills and fins adapting it for living in the water”. As still familiar names like starfish,
jellyfish, shellfish & cuttlefish attest, just about any fully aquatic
animal (including mammals like dolphins & whales) was thought some sort of
fish and attempts by zoologists to rectify things (such as suggesting the
starfish should retroactively be named sea star) have made little impact. The difficulty with such a project is that historically,
some fish were also misleadingly named. The
name seahorse (also as sea horse & sea-horse) encompasses dozens of small fish
in the genus Hippocampus, from the Ancient Greek hippókampos (ἱππόκαμπος),
the construct being híppos (ἵππος) (horse) + kámpos (κάμπος) (sea monster or sea animal). To be consistent, these engaging creatures
would presumably have to be named horsefish (risking confusion with one of
Donald Trump’s alleged former associates) or something else less appealing than seahorse
and that’s unlikely to attract much support.
Fish was from the Middle English fisch, from Old English fisċ (fish), from the Proto-West
Germanic fisk, from the Proto-Germanic
fiskaz (fish) and was related to the West
Frisian fisk, the Dutch vis, the German Fisch, the Danish, Norwegian & Swedish fisk and the Icelandic fiskur. The word was linked with both the Latin piscis and the Old Irish īasc although the actual root remains
unknown. Some have constructed the
primitive Indo-European roots pisk &
peysk- because of evidence gleaned
from the Italic, Celtic, and Germanic but it remains speculative and one
etymologist maintains that (on phonetic grounds), it may be a north-western
Europe substratum word . The verb fish (to
harvest creatures living in water) was from the Old English fiscian ("to try to catch fish) was
cognate with the Old Norse fiska, the
Old High German fiscon, the German fischen and the Gothic fiskon and was directly from the noun;
the related forms were fished & fishing.
Lindsay Lohan with catch. To avoid cancellation, she posted on Instagram: “Bonding with nature. I let my little friend
swim away after.”
In astronomy and (the then respectable) astrology,
the constellation Pisces was so described from the late-fourteenth century. From the mid eighteenth century, “fish” (with
modifiers) came to be applied to people in a usually derogatory sense, a shift
from the earlier use when it had been positive in the sense of someone being a
good (romantic) “catch”. The original figurative
sense was of a “fish out of water” (person in an unfamiliar and awkward
situation (usually social)) recorded in the 1610s and in the same vein the
phrase “a fisshe out of the see” was
noted in the mid-fifteenth century. To “drink
like a fish” was from 1744 and was applied to those over-fond of strong drink while
“having other fish to fry” (other things demanding more immediate attention) dates
from the 1650s. In optics, the fish-eye
lens was first sold in 1961, fish-and-chips became a staple of English cuisine
in the 1870s and fish-fingers were first sold (in frozen form) from 1962, the
earlier fish-cake known since the 1910s and especially popular during wartime
rationing.
The phrase “plenty more fish
in the sea” was a re-assuring line for those whose love was unrequited and like
“cold fish” & “queer fish” (both alluding to qualities detected in those
with some degree of social ineptitude) was a coining from the early twentieth
century. Usually applied to other
soldiers, “queer fish” was a favourite of Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke
(1883–1963; Chief of the Imperial General Staff (CIGS) 1941-1946), a perhaps unexpected
choice for one of Britain’s more renowned ornithologists. Why Sir Henry Channon (1897–1958) gained the
nickname "Chips" is uncertain but it’s popularly attributed to a
photograph taken of him standing on the stairs while at Oxford, next to a Mr Fysch. Channon’s (almost) un-redacted diaries
(1918-1957 (with gaps)), published in three volumes between 2021-2023 revealed
him at his best and worst and are an indispensable companion while reading anything
about mid-twentieth century British politics.
Memorable
cars named after fish.
1964 Plymouth
Barracuda (left), 1968 Plymouth Barracuda convertible (centre) and 1971 Plymouth
Hemi ‘Cuda (right).
Introduced
in 1964 17 days before the Ford Mustang, in the narrow technical sense the, Plymouth
Barracuda was the first “pony car” but it didn’t capture the imagination or
achieve anything like the Mustang’s success which is why the segment picked up
an equine rather than an ichthyological nickname. The early Barracuda (1964-1966) was created
by grafting a fastback rear-end on to the compact Valiant and while ungainly
when compared to the charismatic Mustang, is remembered for being fitted with
what was at the time the largest (and heaviest) piece of rear glass ever to
appear on an automobile. The second series
(1967-1969) featured Italianeque lines and deserved to be more successful but
the pony car ecosystem had been become congested with Mercury, Chevrolet, Pontiac
and even AMC also with purpose-built entrants so what was still a “modified Valiant”
remained something of an also-ran although some truly awesome versions were
built. The third generation (1970-1974
and this time accompanied by the substantially similar Dodge Challenger) is by
many regarded still as the best-looking of all the pony cars and was a curious
mixture of sound basic engineering and penny-pinching although what accounted
for its commercial failure was the conjunction of rising insurance rates,
various government regulations and changing tastes. Though its life was ended early in as sea of
red ink, as a used car the rarest and most desirable of the third series
Barracudas (actually sold as ‘Cudas) have sold at auction for several million
dollars.
1963
Chevrolet Corvette Sting Ray coupe (left) and 1971 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray
ZR2 convertible.
The Sting
Ray name was introduced with the debut of the second generation (C2) Chevrolet Corvette
in 1963, the first time a coupé was included as a companion to the
convertible. The 1963 coupé was notable
for its “split” rear window, at the time a matter of controversy within the
corporation and the “anti-split” faction prevailed because the idea lasted only
the one season, a single piece of glass appearing for 1964. The “splitists” did however, in a sense, have
the last laugh because the 1963 coupés are now highly sought and command a
premium, becoming one of the few exceptions to the “when the roof comes down
the price goes up” rule, joining a handful of machines like the Mercedes-Benz
300 SL Gullwing, certain air-cooled Porsches and the MGA Twin-Cam. The C2 Corvette lasted only four years and it
would have been a season less had not problems with the aerodynamics of the C3
delayed its introduction and when the C3 appeared as a 1968 model, the bifurcated
Sting Ray name was “corrected” to “Stingray”, the standard spelling in ichthyology
for the various large, venomous rays, of the orders Rajiformes and
Myliobatiformes. The C3 Corvette had
another connection with fish in that the styling closely followed the Mako
Shark II concept car, displayed in the GM (General Motors) Futurama Pavilion at
the 1964-1965 New York World's Fair. The
Stingray name continued to be applied until 1976, by which time the Corvette
was a much-diminished machine (though remaining popular) and it wasn’t until
the C7 appeared in 2014 it returned.
1970 Opel Manta with Mantafahrer and his blonde Friseurinnen-Freundin.
The first
generation Opel Manta was built by GM’s European operation between 1970-1975
and used the highly profitable model applied to create machines like Ford’s
Mustang and Capri (1968-1986): drape a sexy body over the platform of a more
prosaic, mass-market family car. The design
was not ambitious and was at the time called “derivative” but it was
well-executed and provided GM with an import of a desirable size to offer in
the US market where it proved a success until the price was rendered uncompetitive
by the strengthening of the Deutschmark against the US dollar after Washington
DC’s various inflationary adventures in the 1960s, Richard Nixon’s (1913-1994;
US president 1969-1974) sundering of the currency’s linkage with gold and the
first oil shock on 1973; the Opel marquee was retired from the US market in
1975. As a machine the Manta is
something of a footnote in the history of German manufacturing but is remembered
because of the Mantawitze (Manta jokes), all based on the character of the
stereotypical Mantafahrer (Manta driver), said to be working class, poorly
educated, unintelligent, macho and most interested in his football team, his
Manta and his blonde girlfriend who is a hairdresser. The idea was the Manta appealed to the Mantafahrer
because it was “sporty” (albeit not especially fast) yet cheap enough to be
afforded by those without the funds to buy a BMW or Porsche. Interestingly, a similar profile may have
been able to be attached to drivers of Ford Capris but there seems never to
been a genre of “Capri humor”.
1970 Monteverdi
Hai 450 SS.
When in
1970 the Swiss boutique manufacturer Monteverdi displayed the Hai (German for “shark”),
one journalist acknowledged the stunning speed but noted the lack of
practicality, storage space judged to be adequate for a “topless bikini” (a numokini or
unikini in the modern parlance). Peter
Monteverdi (1934–1998) claimed the Hai was “a pre-production prototype” and listed it in
his catalogue at a then hefty US$27,000 (more even than the coach-built
two-door versions of the Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow and while they would have
attracted a very different buyer-profile, the comparison was indicative of
market relativities). The consensus is
Peter Monteverdi never intended series-production because the Hai was really
just an impractical show-piece built to generate publicity (and in that it
succeeded) though four eventually were made with only the first fitted with the
charismatic 7.0 litre (426 cubic inch) Chrysler Street Hemi V8. The other three, two of which were built
shortly before Mr Monteverdi's death, used the less powerful but also less
cantankerous 7.2 litre (440 cubic inch) unit.
As a footnote for trivia buffs, although it's accepted orthodoxy "the factory never installed air conditioning
(A/C) in Street Hemi-equipped cars", Monteverdi did fit A/C to the
first Hai so the true truism should read "No Chrysler factory ever..."
1965
Rambler Marlin (left), 1966 AMC Marlin (centre) and 1967 AMC Marlin (right).
Had one not
had one’s blindfold removed before taking the wheel, one’s first experience of
driving the 1965 Rambler Marlin would likely have been positive because the two-door
(somewhere between what was in size (in US terms) between a “compact” and “intermediate”)
was in most ways at least as good as the competition and superior in certain
aspects, notably the build quality. The critical
issue with the Marlin was not the engineering on the on-road dynamics but the
appearance, the fastback grafted onto a structure much larger than the two-seat
coupés to which the lines are most suited.
The Marlin recalled the vaguely “humpbackish” look of the big fastback
sedan of the 1940s and that was a trend which faded from use for a reason. It was however practical in that it provided
a way to combine a fastback with rear compartment with adequate headroom and even
those not especially tall who sat in the back seat of the 1975 Chevrolet Monza
can attest to what happens to one’s head in cars where style has been allowed
to prevail. What the Marlin’s designers
did was the only way adequate headroom can be provided rear-seat passengers
but, as the rather unhappy 2+2 version of the Jaguar E-Type illustrated, it
does compromise the look. In 1966 AMC (American
Motors Corporation) ceased to use the “Rambler” name for the Marlin, part of
the phase out of the marquee which would be retired from the US market by 1970
although it was retained in Australia until 1976 and Mexico until 1983. The 1967 Marlin was released with the same
styling motifs but used instead on AMC’s well-regarded, full-size platform and
the consensus was it was better looking but the already modest sales dropped further
and the model was dropped with year’s end and not replaced.
